Magic Light

When I was achildmy mother tucked mein at bed time,stirred the fire,kissed me, said“Good night,”and left.

But I was not alone.

The flames in thefireplacefilled my roomwith magic light.As they leaptup the chimneythe shadows of thedresser, the clockon the mantelpiece,and the toys at theend of my bedleapt with them.

They swooped acrossthe ceiling and jumpedfrom wall to wall.

When a new flamespurted from the firethe warm black shapeswent wild for a momentuntil they settled,and the fire subsided,and the shadows movedslowly, slowly,as if they weretired,and my eyes closed,and I fell asleep.

Born in London, England, Dane Gordon served in the Royal Navy during World War II. He has degrees in history, theology, and philosophy from Cambridge and London Universities, England and from the University of Rochester, USA. He is an emeritus professor of philosophy from Rochester Institute of Technology, a retired Presbyterian minister, and a poet.